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(LIBRARY^) 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO      J 


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,.-- 


NORTHLAND  LYRICS 


NORTHLAND  LYRICS 

BY  WILLIAM  CARMAN  ROBERTS 

THEODORE  ROBERTS  &  ELIZABETH  ROBERTS 

MACDONALD    SELECTED  AND  ARRANGED    WITH 

A  PROLOGUE  BY  CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS 

AND  AN  EPILOGUE  BY  BLISS  CARMAN 


BOSTON 

SMALL  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
MDCCCXCIX 


Copyright,  1899,  by 

Small,  Maynard  &  Company 

(Incorporated} 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Ha/1 


The  Everett  Press,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


To 

Emma  Wetmore  Roberts 


CONTENTS 


xi     A  Foreword  to  Northland  Lyrics 

CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS 


Beyond  the  Golden  Gates  of  Song 

A  Dedication 

The  Poet 

Kinsfolk 

The  Night's  Comfort 

A  Song  of  Climbing 

In  an  Old  Garden 

The  Journey 

10  Another  Company 

1 1  The  Quiet  Port 

To  Goodridge  Bliss  Roberts 

The  Conqueror 

The  Wine 

The  Window  of  Dream 

A  Song  of  Her  Singing 

Andante 

The  Chamber  of  the  Dream 

The  Watcher 

Love's  Inclusions 

The  Tower 

A  Prayer  in  a  Garden 

To  Lilith 

At  the  Last 

"  WinterWarms  His  FreezingHand  " 

A  Whispered  Word 

Sunset 

VII 


12 

13 
H 

'5 

1? 

18 
'9 

22 

23 

24 

25 
26 
26 
28 
29 
29 


E.  R.  MACD. 

W.  C.  R. 

T.  R. 

E.  R.  MACD. 
T.  R. 

E.  R.  MAcD. 

W.  C.  R. 

T.  R. 

T.  R. 

E.  R.  MACD. 

E.  R.  MAcD. 

E.  R.  MAcD. 

T.  R. 

W.  C.  R. 

W.  C.  R. 

W.  C.  R. 

T.  R. 

T.  R. 

E.  R.  MAcD. 

E.  R.  MACD. 

T.  R. 

W.  C.  R. 

W.  C.  R. 

T.  R. 

E.  R.  MACD. 
E.  R.  MACD. 


Contents 


The  Voices  E.  R.  MxcD. 

Ex  Umbris  E.  R.  MAcD. 

32  In  the  Night-Season  E.  R.  MACD. 

32  The  Last  Furrow  T.  R. 

»  On  the  Hills  a  God  Lies  Dead  "  T.  R. 

To  W.  C.  R.  T.  R. 

Socobie's  Passing  T.  R. 

Estranged  W.  C.  R. 

Autumn  Dream  W.  C.  R. 

Haunted  W.  C.  R. 

The  Wind  in  the  Garden  W.  C.  R. 

40  An  Autumn  Night  E.  R.  MACD. 

41  The  Wind-Cry  E.  R.  MAcD. 
Beyond  the  Years  W.  C.  R. 
The  Wanderer  W.  C.  R. 
A  Secret  Song  E.  R.  MACD. 

44  Thanksgiving  E.  R.  MAcD. 

45  The  Fading  Year  E.  R.  MACD. 

46  Heimweh  E.  R.  MAcD. 

47  Surprise  E.  R. 

47  Greeting  E.  R. 

48  Spirit  of  Spring  E.  R.  MAcD. 

49  March- Waking  E.  R.  MxcD. 

49  Beyond  the  Hills  E.  R.  MAcD. 

50  From  the  Earth  E.  R.  MACD. 

51  The  Shooting  of  the  Moose  T.  R. 

52  Olaf's  Bowman  T.  R. 

53  The  Shadowy  Tide  W.  C.  R. 

54  To  an  Old  Ship's  Figure-Head  T.  R. 

VIII 


29 
3° 


33 
35 
36 
37 
38 
39 
4° 


42 
43 

43 


Contents 


55  Inscrutable 

56  Harold 

57  Grey  Garry 

58  Smoke- Wreaths 

60  The  Deeps 

6 1  Before  the  Gate 

62  The  Loup-Garou 

63  Kathaleena  E. 

64  Rosemarie  E. 

65  His  Whim 

66  After 

67  To  the  Lord  of  the  Years 

68  Toasts 

70  Before  the  Duel 

71  The  Novice 

72  At  the  Heart's  Cry 

74  Alien 

75  At  Twilight 

76  Slumber-Song  E. 

77  Berceuse  E. 

78  The  Garden  E. 

79  The  Men  of  My  Heart's  Desire 

80  A  Lament  to  the  Memory  of  Archibald 

Lampman 

8 1  Dargai  Ridge 

83    The  Bugle-Call  E. 


W.  C.  R. 

T.  R. 

T.  R. 
W.  C.  R. 
W.  C.  R. 
W.  C.  R. 
W.  C.  R. 
R.  MACD. 
R.  MACD. 
W.  C.  R. 
W.  C  R. 
W.  C.  R. 

T.  R. 

T.  R. 
W.  C.  R. 
W.  C.  R. 
W.  C.  R. 
W.  C.  R. 
R.  MACD. 
R.  MACD. 
R.  MACD. 

T.  R. 

T.  R. 

T.  R. 

R.  MACD. 


85     At  the  End  of  a  Book 


BLISS  CARMAN 


IX 


A  FOREWORD  TO 
NORTHLAND   LYRICS 

To  E.  R.  MacD.,  W.  C.  £.,  T.  R. 

Sister  and  brothers,  not  by  blood  alone 
Kinship  inalienably  dear  we  own, 
Nor  hearts  close-knit  in  common  joys  and  tears 
And  memories  of  sweet,  familiar  years 

That  pledge  the  deep  endurance  of  our  love  ; 

But  also  by  the  fellowship  of  song, — 
One  art,  one  aim,  one  impulse, —  we  belong 
Each  to  the  others  !    Therefore  let  this  word, 
Though  poor,  amid  your  Northland  notes  be  heard 
For  craft  and  kin  and  the  loyal  warmth  thereof. 
CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS. 


VII 


NORTHLAND   LYRICS 


BEYOND  THE  GOLDEN   GATES 
OF  SONG 

Beyond  the  golden  gates  of  Song 

Who  treads  with  reverent  feet  shall  find 

The  dreams  and  visions  cherished  long, 
The  loftier  longings  unresigned  ; 

The  sacred  memories  that  wake 
Our  lives  to  noble  yearnings  still, 

The  quiet  love  no  years  can  break 
Nor  any  earthly  hour  fulfil; 

And  many  a  dear  and  distant  hour 
When  gladness  flooded  land  and  sea, 

And  many  a  word  whose  tender  power 
Yet  stirs  our  souls  to  victory ; 

And  so  to  win  our  lives'  release 

From  out  the  world's  tumultuous  throng, 
We  pass,  with  lips  that  sue  for  peace, 

Beyond  the  golden  gates  of  Song. 

A  DEDICATION 

These  foolish  rhymes  of  a  foolish  rhymer  — 
One  who  has  laughed  and  cried, 


Northland  Lyrics 

And  dreamed  at  times  of  a  mood  sublimer  — 
I  send,  this  Autumn-tide. 

Not  quite  a  thinker  nor  quite  a  poet, 

Though  touched  with  the  whims  of  each; 

With  much  to  learn  and  fain  to  know  it, 
But  never  a  thing  to  teach, 

Except  some  rune  of  the  gold  leaves  lying 

In  the  arms  of  the  whispering  frost, 
While  under  the  stars  the  geese  are  flying 

And  the  frozen  winds  are  tossed; 

Or  the  far,  sweet  word  of  the  Spring-winds  calling 

Our  brothers  out  of  the  sod, 
With  the  gold-bright  drops  of  the  Spring  rain  falling, 

And  joy  in  the  heart  of  God. 

Poor  scraps  of  dream  from  a  heart  world-weary, 

The  rhymes  you'll  find  within; 
But  take  at  their  hands  the  message,  dearie, 

Of  love  from  your  kith  and  kin; 

And  say  to  yourself  when  you  see  them  after, 
There  is  one  who  is  foolish  and  fond, 

Whose  heart  is  moulded  of  tears  and  laughter 
And  dust,  and  a  dream  beyond. 


Northland  Lyrics 

THE  POET 

God,  give  me  breath  for  one  brave  fight  — 
For  one  great  deed  that  the  world  will  hear; 
If  not,  then  God  give  me  night. 

Night,  with  a  candle  to  light  the  gloom, 
And  the  comfort  shadows  and  twilight  cheer, 
Crowding  like  friends  in  the  room. 

God,  give  me  valor,  and  courage,  and  breath 
For  one  great  fight  that  the  stars  will  see; 
If  not,  then  God  give  me  death. 

Death,  with  one  candle  to  light  the  gloom 
From  the  church  to  the  door  of  Eternity  — 
Where,  Lord,  Thou  wilt  portion  my  doom. 

Better  the  death,  ere  the  beard  be  grown, 
Than  the  idle  waiting  with  sheathed  sword  — 
Uncheered,  uncrowned,  unknown. 

God,  give  me  breath  for  one  fight  more  — 
For  one  great  fight  in  Thy  name,  O  Lord; 
If  not,  then  close  me  the  door. 

Thus  sang  the  Dreamer,  with  hands  along 
The  clanging  strings  —  then,  loosing  his  lyre, 
He  flushed  with  the  pride  of  his  song; 
3 


Northland  Lyrics 

For  he  was  a  poet,  and  lived  in  the  gleam 
Of  the  wonderful  deeds  that  he  touched  to  fire  j- 
How  brave  he  was  in  his  dream  ! 


KINSFOLK 

Oh,  fame  may  heap  its  measure, 
And  hope  its  blossoms  strew, 

And  proud  ambition  call  us, 

And  honour  urge  us  through  — 

But  kinsfolk,  kinsfolk, 
My  heart  is  all  for  you. 

When  stately  halls  are  ringing 
With  mirth  and  light  and  song, 

Among  the  mazy  dances 
The  forms  familiar  throng, 

And  speak  above  the  viols 
The  voices  loved  so  long. 

When  wandering  far  I  visit 

Grey  tower  and  haunted  stream, 

Beyond  the  storied  casements 

Those  earliest  hearth-fires  gleam, 

And  dear  Canadian  forests 
Grow  dark  around  my  dream. 


Northland  Lyrics 

No  strange  and  lovely  countries 
Men  venture  far  to  view, 

No  power  and  gifts  and  glory 
Are  worth  one  heart-beat  true ; 

Kinsfolk,  kinsfolk, 

My  heart  is  all  for  you  ! 

THE  NIGHT'S  COMFORT 

i. 

I  think  the  power  of  dream 
Is  the  power  the  spirit  knows 
Over  the  crushing  of  fate, 
Over  the  grinding  snows; 
The  strength  of  the  Galahad-heart, 
Stronger  than  barbed  spears  — 
The  soaring  of  Chatterton 
Beyond  the  beggarly  years. 

II. 

I  think  the  power  of  dream 
Is  subtle  and  fine  like  song  — 
Like  essence  of  harvest  fields 
When  harvest  days  are  long ; 
Gold  and  strong  and  rare, 
Healing  the  dreamer's  brain  — 
Filling  his  shadowed  heart 
With  softened  laughter  again. 
5 


Northland  Lyrics 

in. 

I  think  the  realm  of  dream 
Is  true  as  the  realm  of  day  j 
The  houses  our  souls  have  built 
Border  the  dreamland  way  ; 
The  love  that  we  may  not  reach, 
The  heart  that  is  bitter  cold, 
Soften,  when  night  comes  down 
With  white  stars  manifold. 

IV. 

When  the  sunset  fires  are  out 
And  the  ashes  blown  abroad, 
I  throw  aside  day's  rags 
And  follow  my  dreamland  god. 
He  leads  me  into  a  place 
Where  dreams  are  woven  me; 
Valour  and  love  and  joy 
Like  a  wonderful  tapestry. 

A  SONG  OF  CLIMBING 

Dim  questionings  of  Fate  and  Time 

Beset  our  souls  on  every  side  ; 
Clouds  thicken  round  the  path  we  climb, 
Yet  strive  we  to  the  height  sublime, 
Or  perish  if  the  worst  betide. 
6 


Northland  Lyrics 

What  worse  could  happen  than  to  lie 

Here  in  the  valley  leisurely, 
To  watch  the  clouds  go  drifting  by, 
And  feel  our  powers  grow  faint  and  die 

To  one  tame,  weak  monotony  ? 

To  see  our  mountain's  shining  gold 
Gleam  far  above  us  height  on  height, 

And  know  the  comrades  loved  of  old 

Yearn  from  it  vainly  to  behold 

Our  upward  strife,  our  deeds  of  might  ? 

Nay,  —  face  the  terrors  of  the  way, 

The  rock-pierced  torrent's  angry  roar, 
Grim  walls  that  blind  the  eyes  of  day, 
Sharp,  swift  descents  for  feet  that  stray, 
And  awesome  birds  that  swoop  and  soar. 

Ah,  better  steadfast-eyed  to  scale 
The  awful  hillside  hand  in  hand, 

For  never  yet  without  avail 

Did  one  true  striving  soul  assail 
The  barriers  of  the  Mountain-land. 

Rouse  we  our  spirits  to  the  race. 

Friends  !  Brothers  !  From  the  walls  above 
Leans  many  an  unforgotten  face 
7 


Northland  Lyrics 

Still  wearing  through  its  new-born  grace 
The  old  sweet  look  of  human  love. 

On  !   On  !  A  hand  for  those  who  fall, 

For  those  who  droop  a  song  of  cheer, 
Ears  quick  to  catch  the  Leader's  call, 
Stout  hearts  the  gloom  shall  not  appal, 
For  lo  !  the  towers  of  Home  are  near  ! 

There  watching  by  the  open  door 

Shine  Cuthbert's  heavenly  eyes  of  blue, 
There  Muriel  waits  to  meet  once  more 
The  earth-born  loves  she  hungered  for, 
To  clasp  our  hands  and  lead  us  through. 

There  shall  our  lost  ones  wait,  and  there 

The  height,  the  dream  of  our  desire, 
Supreme  fulfilment,  answered  prayer 
From  lip  to  lip  the  watchword  bear, 

The  cry  of  Home  !  Through  flood  and  fire  ! 


IN  AN  OLD  GARDEN 

Sir  Gold-Plush  Beetle,  in  your  crimson  rose 

With  you  how  goes 
This  life  of  perfume  breeze  and  pollen  gold 

Above  the  garden  mold  ? 


Northland  Lyrics 

Does  any  thread  of  longing  in  your  heart 

At  criss-cross  start, 

When  some  strange,  wandering,  bourneless  thing 
goes  by 

Beyond,  against  the  sky  ?  — 

A  wide-winged  moth,  or  twilight-weaving  bat  — 

But  what  of  that  ?  — 
Perhaps  it  set  some  wild,  quick  chord  athrill 

Only  the  stars  can  still. 


THE  JOURNEY 

When  will  I  have  to  go  ? 

Morning,  or  noon,  or  night  ? 
Will  the  lilies  be  white  or  the  snow 

When  I  buckle  the  girths  all  tight  ? 

When  will  I  have  to  leave 

This  roomy  old  house  and  gay  ? 

Will  my  roistering  fellows  grieve 
When  they  hear  me  gallop  away  ? 

Gallop  away  in  the  night 

From  the  light  of  the  mirthful  room 
With  their  faces  still  in  my  sight 

As  I  set  my  face  to  the  gloom. 
9 


Northland  Lyrics 

How  long  will  the  riding  be 

Through  the  sunlight  and  fog  and  blur  ? 
Friends,  whisper  a  prayer  for  me 

When  I  buckle  on  sword  and  spur. 

For  the  road  will  be  rough  to  the  ford 
And  the  spirits  will  shout  in  the  gloom 

When  I  gallop  and  beat  with  my  sword 
At  the  narrow  door  of  my  tomb. 

ANOTHER  COMPANY 

Do  you  not  know,  my  friends,  that  sometimes  here 

In  this  dim  room  with  books  along  the  wall 

I  entertain  another  company  — 

Where  no  wine  gleams,  no  circled  ashes  fall  ? 

The  merry  jests  we  know  —  the  narratives 
Of  brave  adventure,  which  we  tell  to  cheer, 
When  uttered  by  these  other  guests  of  mine 
Ring,  through  their  wide  smiles,  like  a  falling  tear. 

Last  night  they  all  came  in,  Ambition,  Doubt, 
Care  with  his  heavy  eyes  and  broken  dream, 
Life  with  his  cynic  smile  and  dainty  hands, 
And  Memory,  too,  with  her  dear  eyes  agleam. 

Ambition,  golden-haired,  was  all  agog  ; 
Doubt  sat  there  moping  at  the  window-pane, 
10 


Northland  Lyrics 

And  Memory  leaned  against  my  dusty  books 
And  counted  her  bright  treasures  o'er  again. 

I  loved  Ambition,  for  he  promised  me 

Great  things  —  green  wreaths  —  a  name  to  belt  the 

world ; 

I  glanced  at  Life  who  sat  beside  the  hearth 
And  saw  his  cynic  lips  with  laughter  curled. 

But  as  the  night  advanced  Ambition  left, 

And  Doubt  and  Life  and  Care,  those  brothers  three. 

So  I  sat  on,  until  the  dawn  came  in 

Beneath  the  tears  of  wondrous  Memory. 

Do  you  not  know,  my  comrades,  true  of  heart, 
That  I  pledge  other  eyes  at  other  times  ? 
That  heavy-shouldered  Doubt  has  his  own  chair 
And  brave  Ambition  fires  my  little  rhymes  ? 

THE  QUIET  PORT 

There  lies  a  quiet  port  across  the  sea 

Where  the  proud  sail  is  furled, 
Where  the  bright  banner  flares  and  flaunts  no  more 

That  once  waved  round  the  world. 

There  the  brave  ships  that  steered  for  other  shores, 
That  fought  the  bitter  blast 
ii 


Northland  Lyrics 

And  dared  the  unknown  straits,  the  frost-hung  bays, 
Find  harbourage  at  last. 

And    those    white  barques  that  sought  the  isles  of 
dream, 

The  lands  of  love's  report, — 
They  too,  though  steering  gladly  otherwhere. 

Have  found  the  quiet  port. 

There    the    dark    night    comes  down  around  them, 
there 

The  weary  captains  rest, 
The  homesick  voyager  bows  down  his  head, 

The  sage  forgets  his  quest. 

But  yet,  ah  even  while  we  fall  on  sleep, 

We  are  content  to  wait ; 
Comrades,  the  land  of  our  desire  is  near, 

This  port  is  but  its  gate. 


TO  GOODRIDGE  BLISS  ROBERTS 

All  night  the  crickets  sing  among  the  flowers 
That  watch  beside  you,  sleeping  on  the  hill, 

And  low  winds  whisper  through  the  lonely  hours 
That  though  we  sleep  our  love  is  with  you  still. 


12 


Northland  Lyrics 

Some  respite  slumber  brings  us  from  our  pain, 
For  bygone  days  and  hours  of  lost  delight 

Come  back,  and  you  are  with  us,  dear, again  — 
Though  by  your  grave  the  low  winds  singto-night. 

THE    CONQUEROR 

Where  are  the  eyes  we  loved, 

Tender  and  full  of  light  ? 
Where  are  the  hands  we  held 

Stumbling  on  through  the  night  ? 
Gone  —  they  are  gone  as  a  lamp 

Dies,  blown  out  by  a  breath  ! 
What  have  you  done  with  our  dear  ones, 
Death  ? 

Where,  from  our  eager  eyes 

Withheld  for  a  bitter  space, 
Do  they  wait  till  our  hasting  feet 

Have  brought  us  face  to  face  ? 
Let  us  on  to  the  Land 

That  shines  at  the  end  of  the  quest, 
Where  they  who  passed  from  our  side 
Rest. 

Death,  who  took  them  away, 

Now  they  are  yours  no  more ; 
He  who  went  through  the  vale 

'3 


Northland  Lyrics 

And  drank  of  the  cup  before 
Is  Master  even  of  thee, 

Yea,  thou  shalt  fall  at  His  word, 
For  He  is  over  us  all 
Lord. 

On  in  the  storm  we  strive, 

And  thou  dost  lurk  in  the  strife, 

Ever  subtle  and  strong 
In  the  very  midst  of  life  : 

A  touch  and  the  face  we  love 
Loses  the  mystic  spark ; 

We  are  left  in  the  lonely  night 
Dark. 

Yet  we  strive  in  the  way, 
For  out  of  the  gloom  a  voice 

Comes  to  us,  clarion-sweet, 
Bidding  our  souls  rejoice. 

"  I  am  the  Resurrection,"  — 

Hear  what  the  White  Christ  saith ; 

He  is  thy  Lord  and  Master, 
Death  ! 

THE  WINE 

He  breaks  the  seal,  he  pours  the  wine ; 
We  find  the  flavor  somewhat  hard, 
But  the  color  is  divine. 


Northland  Lyrics 

And  we  must  drink  it  to  the  lees : 
See  yonder  coward  lift  the  cup 
And  drain  it  on  his  knees. 

If  we  must  down  it,  hard  and  sweet, 
Bitter  and  mellow,  we  will  up 
And  drink  it  on  our  feet; 

Drink  it  like  men  of  giant  race  — 
Pledge  to  our  host,  who  stands  not  far 
With  smiles  across  his  face. 

He  knows  the  flavor  and  bouquet. 
He  forces  it  on  every  guest, 
Grinning  the  same  old  way. 

He  keeps  the  flagon  on  the  shelf 
And  gives  us  each  a  mighty  glass, 
But  will  not  drink  himself. 

He  will  not  drink,  but  we  must  drink ; 
So  let  us  toss  the  stuff  and  bow  — 
Only  the  cowards  shrink. 

THE  WINDOW  OF  DREAM 

On  the  edge  of  the  deep  grey  sea  of  sleep 

Between  the  veils  of  the  rain 
A  casement  gleams  with  the  light  of  dreams, 
15 


Northland  Lyrics 

Glimmers,  and  fades  again 
While  my  heart  goes  keening  out  to  it 

Through  the  volleying  gusts  —  in  vain. 

The  window  is  set  (O  heart,  forget) 

In  walls  of  looming  stone, 
And  she  is  there,  of  the  shadowy  hair, 

Waiting  so  long  alone, 
Whose  eyes  my  soul  would  perish  for  — 

0  love,  desired,  unknown. 

Now  and  again  through  the  streaming  pane 

1  see  her  longing  face  — 

O  love,  I  come,  and  my  lips  are  dumb 

And  wan  with  many  a  trace 
Of  hungerings  unsatisfied 

For  your  eternal  grace. 

The  long  waves  lift  and  the  great  winds  drift 
My  heart  to  the  sands  of  night, 

Where  the  end  of  all  is  the  looming  wall 
And  never  a  door  in  sight, 

While  over  the  breaking  sea  there  lies 
The  casement's  lonely  light. 


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Northland  Lyrics 

A  SONG  OF  HER  SINGING 

The  wind  at  the  casement  enters,  like  a  child's  soul 

into  the  dusk, 
With  the  cool,  fresh  scent  of  the  garden,  a  fragrance 

of  roses  and  musk. 

Sing  me  a  song,  my  love,  and  plead  with  the  ivory 
keys 

Till  the  soul  of  the  organ  wakes,  astir  with  such  vi- 
sions as  these, 

While  the  golden  day  fades  slowly  among  the  garden 
trees 

And  I  hear  the  robins  coining  their  hearts  upon  the 
breeze. 

Sing  me  a  song,  my  love,  of  joys  more  sharp  than 

pain, 
The  sweet,  wild  heart  of  dream  athrill  in  the  Autumn 

rain, 
The  pleasure  that  crowns  us  now,  the  joy  that  will 

find  us  again. 

O  love,  with  the  beating  and  rapture  of  the  spirit  of 

life  in  your  eyes, 
Sing  low  of  the  passionate  yearning,  the  heart's  first 

faint  surmise; 

'7 


Northland  Lyrics 

Of  the  fairy  quest,  and  the  capture;  the  silence,  the 

rapt  replies; 
Sing  softlier,  love,  sing  lower,  till  the  hush  on  my 

spirit  lies. 

ANDANTE 

Your  fingers  sweep  the  keys,  and  then 

By  river  reach  and  iris  fen 

The  long  dead  days  come  back  again. 

Smile  on  me  once  again,  and  so 
Waft  me  on  music  soft  and  low 
Down  the  far  hills  of  long  ago, 

Where  lonely  sunsets  blow  and  fade 
For  one  whose  haunted  heart  has  strayed 
At  evening  to  the  upland  glade 

Where  he  can  hear  the  wild  geese  cry 

Across  the  solitary  sky, 

And  the  cold  sweeping  winds  go  by 

With  broken  words  that  laugh  and  weep 
Like  some  one  troubled  in  his  sleep 
By  visions  of  the  calling  deep. 

Strange  forest-girdled  lakes,  whose  moods 
Lie  hidden  in  far  solitudes 
Where  no  irreverent  foot  intrudes; 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Black,  tossing  rapids,  through  whose  roar 
A  vague,  great  voice  forevermore 
Goes  echoing  from  shore  to  shore; 

All  phases  of  that  wilderness 

Whose  close  communion  used  to  bless 

My  boyhood  in  its  loneliness; 

All  these  across  my  spirit's  ken 

Sweep  by  on  waves  of  sound,  and  then  — 

A  sharp,  sweet  chord  —  they  fade  again. 

The  wandering  ghosts  have  found  their  tomb; 
And  here,  within  this  shadowed  room, 
Your  gold  hair  glimmers  through  the  gloom. 


THE  CHAMBER  OF  THE  DREAM 

I  did  not  build  a  lordly  house 

Here  in  my  heart,  to  stand  through  time. 

I  only  filled  a  little  room 

With  joyous  scraps  of  rhyme, 

And  pictures  that  no  brush  could  trace, 
And  music  that  no  harp  could  make. 
I  hung  the  walls  about  with  joy 
And  gold  for  my  dream's  sake. 


Northland  Lyrics 

I  pierced  the  walls  with  openings  — 
One  for  each  season  —  windows  four. 
I  wished  to  hold  it  through  all  time 
So  did  not  cut  a  door. 

A  workman  from  the  goblin  world 
Carved  me  the  ledges,  fine  and  rare, 
And  bars  of  sunlight  I  had  set 
To  hold  my  vision  there. 

With  wonder  of  old  tapestry 
I  hung  the  ceiling  and  the  wall. 
A  clock,  as  every  hour  went  past, 
Rang  a  sweet  madrigal 

That  some  young  poet  wrote,  years  gone, 
To  some  sweet  lady,  ages  dead. 
I  had  mock  stars  on  either  hand 
And  a  gold  sun  overhead. 

One  window  faced  the  April-time ; 
Grey  poplars  in  a  golden  sheen ; 
Blue  rivers  breaking  joyously 
Like  pictures  on  a  screen. 

One  window  faced  the  beautiful 
Ripe  Summer  over  all  the  land ; 


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Northland  Lyrics 

The  clouds  that  drifted  in  the  blue 
Were  white  as  my  dream's  hand. 

One  window  faced  the  Autumn  hills 
Where  maples  set  the  world  aflame. 
There  the  Red  Hunter  built  his  fire 
And  cried  his  lady's  name. 

One  window  faced  a  dreary  place 
Where  spruce-trees  crowded  the  low  sun ; 
Where  Winter  set  his  spotless  seal 
On  all  that  joy  had  done. 

And  thus,  not  in  a  lordly  house, 
I  housed  the  dream  I  had  of  love  — 
I  kept  it  there  between  four  walls 
With  a  mimic  sky  above. 

And  thus  live  I  in  my  small  room  — 
With  tricks  of  rhyme  and  my  sweet  dream, 
Watching  the  suns  of  all  the  year 
Across  the  casement  gleam. 

Sometime  I  think  the  walls  will  part 
And  some  one  enter  —  then  I  '11  wake 
To  know  the  room  and  dream  were  made 
For  some  real  maiden's  sake. 


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Northland  Lyrics 

THE    WATCHER 

My  heart  is  like  an  empty  house, 
The  hostess  being  gone  : 
The  halls  are  laughterless  at  noon, 
The  beds  are  cold  at  dawn. 

My  heart  is  like  an  empty  house 
That  has  not  revel  there, 
With  ashes  on  the  hearth  at  night. 
And  winds  upon  the  stair. 

The  glasses  on  the  buffet  stand 
Unused  for  many  a  day, 
The  brazen  fire-dogs  grin  and  grin 
A  new,  forsaken  way. 

The  spiders  weave  along  the  wall 
The  sunbeams  in  a  thread. 
The  echoes  of  old  times  drift  by 
Like  shadows  of  the  dead. 

My  heart  is  like  an  empty  house 
With  all  the  windows  down  — 
Save  one,  high  in  the  cupola, 
That  looks  beyond  the  town  : 

And  ever  at  the  window  there 
My  soul  looks  out  to  see 
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Northland  Lyrics 

If  Phillada,  my  heart's  desire, 
Is  coming  back  to  me. 

When  she  comes  back  the  fires  will  light  — 
The  guests  will  all  return  — 
The  wine  will  fill  the  cups,  all  night 
The  scented  candles  burn. 

The  halls  will  glow  with  light  of  love  — 
The  shadows  slip  away. 
At  noon  our  laughter  will  out  ring 
Across  the  golden  day. 

LOVE'S  INCLUSIONS 

When  your  lips  to  my  hand  you  press 

Lowly,  my  dear  one, 
A  moment  out  of  the  daytime  stress 

Swift-snatched,  my  dear  one, 
I  am  a  princess,  and  you  my  knight 
Seeking  a  guerdon,  armed  for  fight, — 
(And  the  palace  of  Love  looms  near  one  !) 

When  we  linger,  while  hours  go  by, 

Where  woods  are  lonely, 
With  garnet  leaves  and  a  mist-blue  sky 

Dream-deep  and  lonely, 
I  am  a  dryad  that  you  have  found 
23 


Northland  Lyrics 

And  fast  to  the  life  of  mortals  bound  — 
(Love's  bonds  are  his  young  arms  only  !) 

When  your  head  on  my  shoulder  lies 

Weary,  my  true  heart, 
I  am  your  mother  with  watchful  eyes, 

Dearie,  my  true  heart ; 
With  only  a  mother's  passion  then 
For  the  boy  so  weary  of  strife  with  men, — 
(For  love  has  ever  a  new  heart !) 

When  in  your  sheltering  arms  I  rest 

Safely,  at  gloaming, 
I  am  a  child  on  its  father's  breast 

Hushed  in  the  gloaming, 
With  all  the  rapture  the  child-hearts  know, 
Cradled  and  sung  to,  soft  and  low, — 
(Love's  heart  is  the  hearth  for  homing  !) 

THE  TOWER 

Thy  love  for  me  is  like  a  tower 

Whereto  from  strife  and  storm  I  flee ; 
High  on  the  rock  its  steadfast  walls 
Are  set  above  the  bitter  sea. 

Within  its  shelter  safe  and  dear 
I  hear,  and  smiling  dread  no  more, 
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Northland  Lyrics 

The  mockery  of  the  ghostly  wind, 

The  time-waves  breaking  on  the  shore. 

A  PRAYER  IN  A  GARDEN 
Where  this  garden's  walks  are  strewn 
With  the  scarlet  hopes  of  June  — 

Poppy-petals,  rose-bloom  tears  — 
Sun-dreams  of  a  thousand  years; 

Let  me  lie  till  time  is  done, 
Soft  wrapt  in  dusk  oblivion. 

Let  me  lie,  and  dream,  perchance, 
Dim  dreams  of  olden-time  romance. 

Let  every  golden  lily  blow 

With  some  old  tale  of  long  ago  — 

Some  lilt  of  swords,  some  song  of  love, 
Some  ballad  to  a  lady's  glove. 

So  let  me  sleep  till  time  is  done  — 
Till  all  the  varied  sands  are  run, 

And  Life  forgets  to  turn  the  glass, 
And  drops  his  jester-bells,  alas  ! 

So  let  me  dream,  till  these  are  done, 
Soft  wrapt  in  dusk  oblivion. 
25 


Northland  Lyrics 

TO  LILITH 

Behind  such  various  vesture  of  strange  dreams 
Abides  my  soul,  I  know  not  its  true  form ; 
Nor  have  I  faith  it  is  the  thing  it  seems  — 
Now  hushed  in  calm,  now  crying  of  the  storm. 

Forevermore  the  dreams  are  as  a  veil 
Of  strangely-wrought  enchantment  to  my  ken, 
Wherethrough  my  soul's  eyes  make  my  being  quail, 
Or  bid  me  wanton  with  my  joys  again. 

I  have  no  knowledge  of  the  thing  it  is, 
Whether  it  be  of  fiend  or  angel  born, 
This  much  I  know,  beloved,  only  this  : 
Beneath  thy  touch,  of  all  its  power  shorn, 

It  yields  glad  captive  to  the  joy  that  lies 
Sweet  on  thy  ruining  lips  and  laughing  eyes. 

AT  THE  LAST 

When  all  this  trouble  of  life  is  past, 

This  prating  of  honor  and  fame  and  sin, 

The  cry  of  my  passion  will  find  you  at  last, 
O  love,  and  our  life  will  begin. 

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Northland  Lyrics 

When  God  has  broken  His  colored  globes 

And  crumbling  ruin  is  wide  and  far, 
Our  love  will  flame  through  the  wreck  of  things 

And  build  us  a  lovelier  star. 

The  pigmy  shadows  which  stand  and  leer 
And  rob  my  soul  of  its  strength  to  do ; 

The  little  duties  which  earth  makes  clear 
To  hold  me  far  from  you ; 

The  abnegations,  the  fears,  the  dooms, 

That  immure  your  heart  from  my  soul's  great  love 

These  things  will  shrivel  before  God's  eyes 
And  fade  in  the  fire  thereof. 

Then  through  the  tumult  of  shattering  dreams, 
The  shriek  and  blur  of  the  starry  tides, 

My  love  will  lead  you  by  quiet  streams 
Where  our  wild  joy  abides. 

Our  lips  will  recapture  the  first  dear  kiss, 

And  life's  long  fever  which  burned  unquenched 

Your  eyes  will  blot  from  my  heart  forever  — 
A  brand  in  the  white  dews  drenched. 


27 


Northland  Lyrics 

"WINTER  WARMS  HIS  FREEZING 
HAND" 

Winter  warms  his  freezing  hand, 
Bends  his  head  and  leans  low  down, 
Where  the  sunset  fires  the  land 
Just  behind  the  hills  and  town. 

Winter  melts  his  freezing  heart 

What  time  the  screaming  geese  take  wing 

And  the  willow-blossoms  start 

Up  and  down  the  creeks  of  Spring. 

Once  I  warmed  this  heart  of  mine 
By  the  light  of  her  sweet  eyes, 
Firing  my  horizon  line  — 
Firing  all  these  Winter  skies, 

And  in  dreams  I  scent  the  Spring. 
Dreaming  still,  she  beckons  me 
And  with  wild  birds  we  take  wing 
Down  the  creeks  of  mystery  ; 

Down  where  willow-blossoms  blow  — 
Dreaming  thus,  I  kiss  her  cheek. 
Waking,  I  can  see  the  snow 
Lying  cold  above  the  creek. 

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Northland  Lyrics 

A  WHISPERED  WORD 

To-night  a  word,  a  whisper, 

Through  long,  long  miles  there  thrills, 
To  you  beside  the  river, 

From  one  among  the  hills. 

Above  the  town's  sad  turmoil 
Your  listening  heart  shall  hear 

The  murmuring  sound  of  alders, 
The  whispered  word  of  cheer  ! 

SUNSET 

The  hearth-fire  of  the  universe 
To-night  burns  kind  and  deep ; 

We  warm  ourselves  before  it 
In  converse  ere  we  sleep. 

For  Love,  the  mighty  builder, 
Makes  boundless  space  a  homej 

We  nestle  safe  and  fearless, 
With  infinite  skies  for  dome. 

THE  VOICES 

"  Lonely,  lonely,"  over  the  hill 
Wails  the  wind  at  its  restless  will; 
Close  to  your  shoulder  my  head  I  lean, 
29 


Northland  Lyrics 

No  wind  so  sharp  it  can  blow  between : 
("  Only  the  bitter  wind  of  death;  " — 
Hear  what  the  whisper  saith.) 

Swift,  surely,  the  ominous  night 
Quenches  the  sunset's  coloured  light; 
In  your  eyes  the  star  of  love  is  lit, — 
No  darkest  hour  can  banish  it  : 
("  Only  the  cold,  cold  hour  of  death  ;"  — 
Hear  what  the  whisper  saith.) 

Nay,  not  the  darkest  night  can  part, 
Or  bitterest  wind,  true  heart  from  heart ; 
Hold  me  close  that  we  hear  no  more 
The  taunting  voices  without  the  door: 
("  Love  shall  be  conqueror  over  death  !  " 
Hear  what  the  whisper  saith.) 


EX  UMBRIS 

Dear  heart,  the  storm  cries  at  the  door,  the  snow  is 

blown  about  the  eaves, 
The  wind  from  some  wreck-drifted  shore  around  my 

lattice  window  grieves, 
And  ghosts  of  happier  hours  go  by  across  the  dark 

tempestuous  sky. 

30 


Northland  Lyrics 

The  spruce-trees  crowding  up  the  slope  toward  the 

lonely  dwelling  lean, 
Forgetting  all  the  songs  of  hope  they  crooned  us  when 

the  fields  were  green  ; 
The  wailing  voices  of  the  blast  mourn  for  the  golden 

summers  past. 

The  firelight  dancing  on  the  wall  and  lighting  many 

a  pictured  face, 
The  wavering  shadows  quaint  and  tall,  the  carved 

chair  by  the  chimney-place, 
Have  each  some  wistful  word  to  say  of  one  beloved 

and  far  away. 

And  yet  how  longing  brings  you  near  !  Just  now,  I 

almost  thought  I  heard 
From  out  the  bitter  darkness,  dear,  your  voice  and 

that  most  tender  word, 
The  sweet  new  name  you  murmured  low,  that 

Autumn  —  was  it  years  ago  ? 

A  shadow  on  the  threshold  stands — O  love,  can 

this  be  fancy  too  ?  — 
With  pleading  lips,  and  outstretched  hands,  and  those 

sad  eyes  by  time  proved  true  !  — 
Now  gladly,  faithful  heart,  I  come  to  these  dear  arms 

that  take  me  home  ! 

31 


Northland  Lyrics 

IN  THE  NIGHT-SEASON 

The  joy  of  my  art 

And  the  love  of  my  heart 
And  the  lost,  lost  garden  of  young  delight, 

I  came  to  these 

Through  the  shadow-trees 
By  the  gate  of  dreams  in  the  night. 

The  daytime  was  cold, 

And  the  world  had  grown  old, 
And  bitter  and  lonely  the  light  of  the  sun, 

And  life  was  chill 

With  the  dread  of  ill 
And  sorrow  of  works  undone. 

Came  night,  with  its  tears 

For  the  severing  years, 
And  its  gift  reluctant  of  weary  sleep ; 

And  then  —  your  hand 

In  that  clearer  land, 
And  your  word  for  my  heart  to  keep ! 

THE  LAST  FURROW 

Mellow  the  grapes  are, 
Purple  as  gloamings  that  free. 
Yellow  the  corn  in  the  husk, 
And  scarlet  the  haws  in  the  tree. 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Wide  winged  the  geese  go, 

Swift,  and  crying,  and  crossing  the  stars, 

Foreseeing  the  snow. 

The  hoar-frost  lies  white  on  the  bars. 

This  is  the  royal  time  — 

The  partridges  out  of  their  covers  — 

Each  morning  a  rhyme, 

And  the  sun  and  the  hill  are  as  lovers. 

The  cattle  in  stall  — 

The  pastures  forsaken  and  lone  — 

Firelight  in  the  hall, 

And  the  thistle-seeds  withered  and  blown. 

The  last  furrow  turned, 

With  the  great  moon  watching  all  white. 

The  oxen  can  rest  now, 

For  the  ponds  will  be  frozen  to-night. 


"ON  THE  HILLS  A  GOD  LIES 
DEAD" 

On  the  hills  a  god  lies  dead  — 
Carl,  the  girdled  one, 
With  the  white  stars  for  his  bed, 
For  his  shield  —  the  sun. 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Brother  to  the  crawling  wind 
And  the  sweeping  snow  ; 
With  his  hair  adrift  behind, 
Forehead  to  the  foe. 

On  the  hills  a  god  lies  dead 
With  his  sword  in  twain  : 
Down  the  East  his  grey  soul  fled 
With  the  shifting  rain. 

Centuries  it  has  been  so 

Yet  I  knew  it  not  — 

Still  the  hills  mourn,  and  the  snow 

He  is  not  forgot. 

Gnarled  pines  in  the  wind  rejoice  — 
"  Carl,  the  girdled  one, 
Gave  to  us  his  god-like  voice ; 
To  the  sky,  the  sun." 

On  the  hills  a  god  lies  dead. 
Centuries  have  gone 
Since  his  soul  rose  up  and  fled 
From  the  crimson  dawn. 


34 


Northland  Lyrics 

TO  W.  C.  R. 

The  very  thought  of  it  moves  me  here  — 
The  thought  of  April  coming  again 
To  our  Mother  St.  John.     Excuse  this  pen; 
And  the  blot  there  looks  like  a  tear. 

How  you  will  stand  in  the  snow  and  note 
The  first  faint  odour  of  willows  in  bud  — 
The  Indian-willow  will  flush  with  blood 
And  the  robin  will  clear  his  throat. 

The  ice  will  swing  at  the  brink,  and  flow 
Seaward  —  a  hundred  miles  let  it  travel. 
The  battered  logs  will  hang  on  the  gravel  — 
The  islands  will  strain  to  go. 

The  geese  will  return  to  your  hills — and  the  loon ; 
You  will  find  them  all, some  day,  when  you  wake, 
Trying  the  depths  of  a  woodland  lake 
Or  feeding  in  some  lagoon. 

A  week  will  pass  like  a  breath,  and  then 
Up  and  along  the  creeks  I  know 
The  pussy-willows  will  scent  and  blow  — 
The  catkins  will  thrill  again. 

Then  you  will  slip  from  the  bank  and  drift 
In  your  slim  canoe,  and  her  gunwale's  gleam 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Will  come  to  me  in  a  happy  dream  \ 
And  your  paddle  will  dip  and  lift 

And  speed  her  along,  and  through  it  all 
The  red-bud  maples  will  burst  and  lean  — 
The  swollen  waters  will  snarl  between  — 
-Then  I  will  awake,  and  call 

And  find  that  the  valour  of  April  and  sun 
On  our  Mother  St.  John  and  the  Nashwaak  there 
Is  not  for  me  —  so  I  '11  snuff  the  air 
And  dream  how  the  thing  is  done. 

SOCOBIE'S  PASSING 
Socobie,  aged  and  bent  with  pain, 
At  the  time  of  the  year  when  the  red  leaves  fly 
Crawled  from  his  tent  door  down  to  the  river. 
"  I  will  try  my  wrist  and  my  skill  again 
And  sweep  a  paddle  before  I  die." 

Time  falls  —  the  windfalls  —  the  grey  geese  draw  on. 
There  is  silence  and  peace  on  our  Mother  St.  "John. 

Socobie,  once  a  king  of  his  tribe, 
Once  a  lover,  a  poet,  a  man, 
Launched  his  sun-scarred  craft  to  the  river. 
"  I  will  try  my  strength  where  the  rapids  jibe  — 
I  will  run  her  sheer,  as  a  master  can." 
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Northland  Lyrics 

At  the  time  of  the  year  when  the  pass  is  blue 
And  the  spent  leaf  falls  in  the  empty  wood 
Socobie  put  out  on  the  merry  river ; 
The  brown  blade  lifted  the  white  canoe  — 
The  rapids  shouted,  the  forests  stood. 

Down  in  the  village  the  hearths  were  bright, 
And  the  nig.ht  frost  gleamed  in  the  after-grass, 
And  the  farmers  were  homing  up  from  the  river, 
When  out  of  the  star-mist,  slender  and  white 
A  birch  craft  leapt  and  they  watched  it  pass. 

Time  falls  —  the  frost  falls  —  the  great  stars  draw  on. 
What  voice  cries, "Farewell"  to  our  Mother  St.  "John? 

ESTRANGED 

In  my  dreams  I  returned  to  my  hills ;  for  the  life  that 

I  left, 
The  life  of  my  waking,  was  drear  as  the  pipe  of  the 

winds  through  a  cleft 
Of  the  mountains  of  old  held  sacred,  but  long  of  their 

godhead  bereft. 

When  pitiful  sleep  drew  near,  and  laid  cool  hands  on 

my  brow, 
And  kind  dreams  led  me  away,  where  my  hills,  like 

a  great  ship's  prow, 

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Northland  Lyrics 

Stood  forth  to  the  northern  wastes,  my  heart  remem- 
bers how. 

With  the  dreams  I  returned  to  my  hills — and  they 

were  not  the  same  ! 
Yet  the  winds  went  by  as  of  old,  and  the  red  spruce 

murmured  her  name, 
And  down  bleak  alleys  of  pine  the  sunset  quivered 

in  flame. 

Then  I  opened  my  heart  and  cried  to  the  hills  to  know 
A  touch  of  their  ancient  kinship,  their  solace  of  long 

ago. 
But  the  voice  of  the  wind  grew  strange,  and  a  hush 

fell  over  the  snow. 


AUTUMN  DREAM 

I  overheard  the  Wind  to-day 

Telling  the  Stream 
The  tragedy  of  Falling  Leaf 

And  Autumn  Dream ; 

And  when  the  Wind  had  finished  it 

He  laughed  and  fled, 
With  never  any  thought  of  all 

He  left  unsaid. 
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Northland  Lyrics 

And  still  the  Stream  went  murmuring 

Of  her  own  grief 
Without  a  thought  for  Autumn  Dream 

And  Falling  Leaf. 


HAUNTED 

It  is  a  weird  that  cries  across  black  water, 
And  in  my  heart  there  is  no  rest  at  all, 
But  dim,  unquiet  dreams  of  ancient  slaughter  — 
Spring,  Summer,  Fall. 

Sometimes  only  the  wind  on  the  frosty  reaches 

With  the  low  cry  my  heart  has  learned  to  know ;  — 
But  in  its  voice  that  other  voice  beseeches 
Through  wind  and  snow. 

Sometimes  night,  with  the  hush  and  the  starry  glamour, 

Allures  my  feet  to  uplands  far  and  lone ; 
Over  the  dark  horizon  drifts  a  clamour 
Of  words  unknown. 

And  then  I  dream  it  is  my  own  soul  calling 

Through  the  blind  urge  of  life's  eternal  deep, 
Across  the  sobbing  sound  of  spent  dreams  falling 
On  death  and  sleep. 


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Northland  Lyrics 

THE  WIND  IN  THE  GARDEN 

A  wind  is  astir  in  my  garden 
Who  spills  the  rose  to  death. 
I  will  not,  will  not  hearken 
The  bitter  thing  he  saith. 

A  sinister,  strange  intruder, 
He  chills  my  heart  with  fear; 
Wrecked  dreams  and  ruined  visions 
At  his  approach  draw  near. 

By  the  dial's  menacing  finger 
The  sweet  hours  wither  and  fall, 
And  the  shadows  leer  and  whisper 
Along  the  garden  wall ; 

For  they  know  the  viewless  stranger, 
With  colder  eyes  than  dawn, 
The  rustle  of  whose  footstep 
Tells  me  that  youth  is  gone. 

AN  AUTUMN  NIGHT 

The  night  is  like  a  mystic  dream  ; 
Slim  alders  bend  above  the  stream 
Wherein  the  last  faint  daylights  gleam. 

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Northland  Lyrics 

The  sere  autumnal  meadows  rise 
Smooth-sloping  to  the  neutral  skies; 
Far  off  the  lonely  night-hawk  cries. 

The  world  is  sad  and  dark  the  night, 
And  I  who  ever  loved  the  might 
Of  Nature,  whether  dull  or  bright, 

Am  lonelier,  sadder,  than  the  chill 
Slow  stream  that  wanders  at  its  will 
Through  these  grave  meadows  bare  and  still. 


THE  WIND-CRY 

O  weary  wind,  be  still,  be  still ; 

Such  bitter  woe  is  in  thy  cry ; 
All  the  lost  dreams  of  all  the  world 

On  thy  dark  wings  go  by. 

Thou  voice  of  heart-ache,  let  me  rest ! 

Lo,  thou  hast  gathered  up  the  tears, 
The  sobs  and  manifold  despairs, 

Of  earth's  unnumbered  years. 

Art  thou  the  voice  of  Nature's  pain  — 
Or  bearest  thou,  with  dawning  day, 

The  message  of  a  lonely  heart 
Too  many  leagues  away  ? 


Northland  Lyrics 

BEYOND  THE  YEARS 

The  work  to  which  his  hands  were  set 
Went  down  with  scorn  and  jeers  ; 

His  look  grew  deeper  :  "  Even  yet 
We  '11  build  —  beyond  the  years." 

The  vision  that  his  faith  had  wrought, 
Touched  by  the  blight  that  sears, 

Fell  shattered.      But  he  said  :  "  My  thought 
Will  live  —  beyond  the  years." 

The  dream  that  in  his  heart  had  rest 

Wrought  bitterness  and  tears. 
His  eyes  grew  tender  :  "Now,  the  quest; 

Then  joy  — beyond  the  years." 

He  smiled  to  know  his  strength  was  gone. 

His  eyes  among  the  spheres 
Saw  strength  and  beauty  at  the  dawn  — 

In  dreams  —  beyond  the  years. 

Then  the  Great  Silence  covered  him 

Too  deep  for  dreams  or  tears. 
Now  the  wind  scatters  at  its  whim 

His  dust  along  the  years. 


Northland  Lyrics 

THE  WANDERER 

Across  the  lawn  the  leaves  are  shed, 
The  roses  mouldered  in  their  bed, 
And  where  their  frosty  shadows  spread 
The  gaunt  trees  watch  and  sigh. 

The  moonlight,  like  a  ghostly  pall, 
Casts  its  weird  glamour  over  all, 
Where  the  great  house  stands  grim  and  tall 
Beneath  the  lonely  sky. 

Down  the  long  path  his  hurried  tread 
Rings  like  a  voice  among  the  dead, 
While  by  his  side  a  stealthy  dread 
Glides  grinning  like  a  gnome. 

Her  window,  with  a  vacant  stare, 
Gazes  across  the  garden  square. 
Only  some  marigolds  are  there 

To  greet  the  wanderer  home. 

A  SECRET  SONG 
O  Snow-bird,  Snow-bird  ! 
Welcome  thy  note  when  maple  boughs  are  bare, 

Thy  merry  twitter,  thy  emphatic  call, 
Like  silver  trumpets  pierce  the  freezing  air 
What  time  the  crystal  flakes  begin  to  fall. 
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Northland  Lyrics 

We  know  thy  secret  !     When  the  day  grows  dim, 
Far  from   the  homes  that  thou   hast  cheered   so 
long, 

Thy  chirping  changes  to  a  twilight  hymn. 

O  Snow-bird,  Snow-bird,  wherefore  hide  thy  song  ? 

O  Snow-bird,  Snow-bird  ! 
Is  it  a  song  of  sorrow  none  may  know, 

An  aching  memory  ?     Nay,  too  glad  the  note. 
Untouched  by  knowledge  of  our  human  woe, 

Clearly  the  crystal  flutings  fall  and  float. 
We  hear  thy  tender  ecstasy,  and  cry  : 

"  Lend  us  thy  gladness  that  can  brave  the  chill ; 
Under  the  splendours  of  the  Winter  sky, 

O  Snow-bird,  Snow-bird,  carol  to  us  still  !  " 

THANKSGIVING 

When  beechen  leaves  are  brown 
And  barberries  bright  as  coral, 

Let  us  forget  the  frown 

Of  fate,  and  the  longed-for  laurel. 

Come  where  the  maples  burn 

In  crimson  and  golden  glory 
That  Earth  may  hold  in  her  urn 

The  ashes  of  Summer's  story. 

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Northland  Lyrics 

Faithless  the  birds  depart 

With  musical  chirp  and  twitter, 

And  Nature  folds  to  her  heart 
Alike  the  sweet  and  bitter. 

Then  sing  in  Autumn's  praise, 

Nor  shrink  from  the  colder  comer ; 

The  joy  of  these  shining  days 
Is  deep  as  the  bliss  of  Summer  ; 

Winter  in  graves  of  snow 

May  bury,  but  hide  them  never, 

For  safe  in  our  hearts  shall  glow 

The  light  they  have  brought  forever. 

The  woods,  the  hills,  rejoice, 
Each  leaf  a  mute  thanksgiving; 

We  sing  with  grateful  voice 
The  pure  delight  of  living. 

THE  FADING  YEAR 

Now  fades  the  year,  and  in  the  sloping  fields 
The  clustering  thin  ferns  are  misty  red, 
And  in  the  wood  red  leaves  are  on  the  sod ; 

And  down  the  paths  among  the  dusky  firs, 
And  down  the  shore  beside  the  shining  stream, 
Come  ghosts  of  other  days  and  walk  with  us. 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Shrill  pipes  the  wind,  and  all  our  world  grows  cold ; 
The  darkness  closes  round  us ;  on  the  hearth 
The  fires  of  home  are  kindled  like  a  star. 

Old  voices  call  us,  old  ideals  return ; 

The  heart  of  childhood  in  us  wakes  and  yearns  ; 

Grant,  Lord,  it  falter  not  again  nor  sleep  ! 


HEIMWEH 

The  wind  is  just  a  far-off  voice 

Beyond  the  pale-blue  bound  of  sky  ; 
Too  weak  to  murmur  or  rejoice, 

I  watch  the  moments  drifting  by. 
So  large  the  world  ;  and  ah,  so  chill 

The  great  pale  sky,  the  shining  snow ; 
The  lonely  wind  is  calling  still, 

With  a  voice  like  human  woe. 

Now  all  my  high  ambitions  fade ; 

The  things  I  hoped  for  seem  so  far; 
From  work  once  loved  I  shrink,  afraid 

Lest  some  mistake  that  work  should  mar ; 
And  all  my  longings  turn  to  this : 

To  hold  my  Mother's  hand,  to  know 
The  rest  of  Home,  the  smile,  the  kiss, — 

And  let  the  great  world  go ! 
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Northland  Lyrics 

SURPRISE 

Blind  golden  buds,  we  listened  yesterday, 
Somewhere  where  winds  were  cool  and  dews  were 

tender, 

To  hear  what  older  buttercups  could  say 
Of  skies  blue-domed  above  the  field's  wide  splen- 
dour. 

To-day  we  bloomed,  and  thought  from  out  the  grass 
To  front  the  sun  with  half-closed  yellow  eyes, 
But  faced  instead  a  white-draped  toilet-glass, 
And  opened  every  petal  in  surprise. 

GREETING 

O  glad  brown  earth,  we  greet  thee, 

Freed  from  the  shrouding  snow  ! 
Soon  shall  the  shadowy  forests  wake 
To  starry  bloom  for  thy  dear  sake, 

Soon  where  the  rivulets  flow 
The  crumpled  ferns  their  sheaths  shall  break, 

The  slender  rushes  grow. 
O  glad  brown  earth,  to  greet  thee 

The  skies  of  Spring  lean  low. 

O  sad  brown  earth,  we  greet  thee  ! 
Hushed  on  thy  mighty  breast 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Thy  graves  lie  bleak  beneath  the  sun  ; 
In  vain  the  silver  rivers  run 

On  their  unending  quest  : 
Strange  grows  this  life,  since  death  has  won 

Lips  that  our  lips  have  prest. 
O  sad  brown  earth,  we  greet  thee 

For  those  who  lie  at  rest  ! 


SPIRIT  OF  SPRING 

Spirit  of  Spring,  draw  near,  draw  near  ! 
Let  the  glad  voices  of  the  brooks 
Sing  anthems  out  of  shadowy  nooks, 
And  adder-tongues  appear. 

Bid  all  thy  sleeping  kinsfolk  wake, 
The  armies  of  the  grass  arise, 
White  violets  open  fairy  eyes, 
And  crocus-flames  outbreak. 

Bring  hope  to  souls  that  long  have  lain 
In  blank  despair  beside  a  tomb  ; 
Let  every  resurrection-bloom 
Speak  comfort  unto  pain. 

In  hearts  where  sordid  cares  hold  sway 
And  world-love  dulls  the  sacred  gleam, 

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Northland   Lyrics 

Re-wake  the  longing,  and  the  dream 
Of  childhood's  golden  day. 

Spirit  of  Spring,  draw  near,  draw  near, — 
With  leaf,  and  blossom,  and  the  light 
Unspeakable  on  plain  and  height, — 
High-priestess  of  the  year  ! 

MARCH-WAKING 

Before  the  dawn,  when  birds  crouch  close  together, 

A  voiceless  silvery  stir  the  silence  breaks  ; 
So  through  the  greyness  of  this  mid-March  weather, 

Something  wakes. 

No  green  has  sprung  between  the  withered  grasses, 

No  blossom  stars  the  roadside's  mossy  miles, 
Yet  from  the  fields  the  frozen  bareness  passes, 

Something  smiles. 

Not  yet,  not  yet  the  time  of  song's  full  cheering; 

Expectant  silence  all  my  heart  enthralls ; 
Out  of  the  woods  and  through  the  lonely  clearing 

Something  calls. 

BEYOND  THE  HILLS 

The  daffodils  fling  far  the  flag  of  Spring, 
Their  golden  troop  the  garden-fortress  fills, 
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Northland  Lyrics 

And  bird-throat  bugles  greet  the  days  that  bring 
The  daffodils. 

Over  the  hills  the  Summer  comes  at  last ; 

But  sad  the  light  and  sad  the  laughing  rills, 
And  sad  the  golden  flowers  —  since  he  has  passed 
Beyond  the  hills. 


FROM  THE  EARTH 

From  the  earth  our  bodies  came ; 

From  the  sad  brown  whirling  earth, 
Knowing  death,  though  not  by  name, 

From  the  hour  of  their  birth. 
From  the  earth  our  bodies  came, 

And  they  shall  return  to  earth. 

To  the  earth  they  shall  return, 
To  a  sod  kept  green  with  tears, — 

Lips  that  sing  and  hearts  that  yearn, 
Stilled  at  last  from  doubts  and  fears. 

To  the  earth  they  shall  return, 

The  brown  earth  kept  sad  with  tears. 

From  the  earth  they  shall  arise 
Purified  and  strong  and  free, 


Northland  Lyrics 

All  of  worth  that  here  they  prize 
Made  their  own  eternally  ; 

When  from  earth  they  shall  arise 
Purified  and  strong  and  free. 


THE  SHOOTING  OF  THE  MOOSE 

All  day  through  woodland  stillnesses 

Of  weighted  fir  and  spruce 

We  've  followed  on  our  springing  shoes 

The  blood-trail  of  the  moose, 

And  now  the  moon  swings  clear,  and  black 

The  shadows  fall  across  our  track. 

All  day  above  the  crunching  snow 

Pierre  and  Dick  and  I, 

With  lust  of  blood,  have  sped  along 

To  see  the  great  moose  die. 

And  now  the  night  has  come,  and  dim 

The  spectral  drifts  wreathe  after  him. 

We  shot  him  at  the  cabin  door  ; 
The  whisky-jacks  cried  shrill. 
And  when  the  smoke  moved  up  I  saw 
The  hemlocks  waiting  still  — 
The  ancient  spruces  bending  low 
To  his  brave  blood  across  the  snow. 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Yea,  brave  his  blood  as  yours  or  mine 
And  fit  for  better  skill. 
The  devil's  luck,  Pierre  !   I  know 
The  sights  were  fixed  to  kill. 
To-night  a  bull-moose,  plunging,  dies 
Beneath  the  comfortless,  wide  skies. 

OLAF'S  BOWMAN 

Here  is  a  rocky  cave ; 
Where  else  could  be  fitter  grave 
For  Wolfgof,  Olaf 's  bowman, 
Flower  and  soul  of  the  brave. 

Asleep  on  the  rocky  floor 

He  can  hark  to  the  ocean's  roar, 

And  dream  that  the  Vikings  muster 
Where  the  black  tides  tramp  the  shore. 

Here  in  his  Viking  bed, 

With  his  bow  and  spear  at  his  head, 

He  will  hark  to  the  voice  of  the  wind 
And  forget,  for  a  while,  he  is  dead. 

The  waves  will  reel  on  the  shore, 
And  the  seaweeds  will  cover  his  door, 

And  he  '11  lie  with  his  head  on  his  helmet 
And  his  brave  soul  dreaming  of  war. 
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Northland  Lyrics 

When  the  brazen  trumpet  of  doom 
Shatters  the  gladness  and  gloom, 

Wolfgof,  bowman  of  Olaf, 
Will  rise  like  a  prince  from  his  tomb. 

THE  SHADOWY  TIDE 

Through  the  wide  white  streets  of  the  little  town 

The  bitter  tide  comes  stealing  down; 

The  night  is  astir  with  the  wings  of  woe, 

The  shadows  creep  and  cower  low 

At  the  creak  of  the  frosts  in  the  frozen  snow  — 

And  the  aching  tide  drifts  down. 

The  women  and  children  will  wake  and  sleep, 
And  the  days  will  creep,  and  the  days  will  creep, 
And  the  silent  tide  flood  full  and  deep, 
And  a  shiver  creep  over  hearth  and  kin, 
And  the  gibbering  shadows  dance  and  grin 
Till  they  fold  us  in,  till  they  fold  us  in, 
And  we  feel  the  chill  of  that  shadowy  tide 
Which  is  cooling  the  world,  and  far  and  wide 
Is  surging  up  to  the  stars  outside. 

And  in  that  day  when  the  tide  shall  break 
And  the  fulness  of  pain  shall  all  pain  slake 
And  the  little  city  its  rest  shall  take 
From  the  long  toil  of  life, 
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Northland  Lyrics 

The  strong  man  out  of  his  sleep  will  wake, 
From  dreams  of  child  and  wife, 
To  find  his  hair  and  his  beard  washed  grey 
With  the  bitter  spume  of  the  frozen  spray, 
And  the  dust  at  his  lips  that  he  may  not  pray. 

I  feel  it  cold  at  my  heart  to-night ; 

It  creaks  the  stair  and  dims  the  light, — 

A  frozen  breath  before  my  sight. 


TO  AN  OLD  SHIP'S  FIGURE-HEAD 

You  tasted  the  brine  through  the  Viking  years, 
And  gazed  wide-eyed  on  the  lifting  flood, 

With  the  measureless  song  of  the  sea  in  your  ears' 
Her  pulse  in  your  blood. 

And  now  from  the  corner  of  this  old  room 
You  gaze  wide-eyed  at  the  curtain'd  wall, 

Where  the  wood-lice  tick  all  day  in  the  gloom, 
And  the  shadows  crawl. 

Behind  that  forehead,  all  brown  and  scarred, 
Do  dreams  of  the  wind-mad  sea  still  move  ? 

Dream  on,  for  the  harbor  mouth  still  is  barred 
'Twixt  you  and  your  love  ! 


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Northland  Lyrics 

INSCRUTABLE 

Her  gold  hair,  fallen  about  her  face, 
Made  light  within  that  shadowy  place, 

But  on  her  garments  lay  the  dust 
Of  many  a  vanished  race. 

Her  deep  eyes,  gazing  straight  ahead, 
Saw  years  and  days  and  hours  long  dead, 

While  strange  gems  glimmered  at  her  feet, 
Yellow,  and  green,  and  red. 

And  ever  from  the  shadows  came 
Voices  to  pierce  her  heart  like  flame. 

The  great  bats  fanned  her  with  their  wings, 
The  voices  called  her  name. 

But  yet  her  look  turned  not  aside 
From  the  black  deep  where  dreams  abide, 
Where  worlds  and  pageantries  lay  dead 
Beneath  that  viewless  tide. 

Her  elbow  on  her  knee  was  set, 

Her  strong  hand  propt  her  chin,  and  yet 

No  man  might  name  that  look  she  wore, 
Nor  any  man  forget. 


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Northland  Lyrics 

HAROLD 

Up  from  the  trodden  sands  lift  his  red  plume ; 

Shoot   his   maimed   stallion,  and    sheathe   his  red 

sword  ; 
Bury  him  there  where  the  cliffs  make  a  gloom 

And  the  cedars  hang  desolate  over  the  ford. 

Helmet  and  cuirass  and  scabbard  of  steel, 

Gauntlets  and  top-boots  and  clatter  of  spur, — 

Dumb  now  the  clashing  from  thigh-bone  to  heel, 
And  harmless  as  dragon-fly  mocking  them  there. 

Such  a  great  fight  there  will  never  be  more ; 

Harold  alone  there,  with  pistols  and  sword, 
Shooting  them  down  where  they  rode  to  the  shore, 

Cutting  them  down  where  they  rode  from  the  ford  ; 

Twenty  long  minutes  he  held  it,  and  then, 

Shouting,  came  down  from  the  pass  overhead ; 

He  turned  in  his  saddle  to  cheer  on  his  men, 

And  the  grey  rocks  that  saw  it  were  spattered  with 
red. 

Bury  him  there  where  the  waters  swing  by, 

And  the  gloom  of  the  mountain  hangs  over  the  ford  ; 

With  his  feet  to  the  rock  and  his  face  to  the  sky, 
And  the  grip  of  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Bury  him  there  where  the  winds  in  the  pass 
Will  cry  him  the  dirges  the  sere  cedars  know. 

No  tear  will  awake  him  of  comrade  or  lass, 

Where  we  leave  him  to  dream  in  the  grass  and  the 
snow. 

Only  the  flare  of  his  singing  red  plume 

Like  the  flag  of  a  hero  will  challenge  the  ford, 

Till  the  last  great  "  To  horse  !  "  will  blare  over  his 

tomb, 
And  he  '11  lead  us  again  with  his  hand  on  his  sword. 

GREY  GARRY 

Grey  Garry  stood  in  the  dusky  stall  — 

Grey  Garry,  dapple-grey  Garry. 

He  heard  the  birds,  and  the  wind's  footfall ; 

He  heard  the  sparrows  flutter  and  call, 

Where  the  soft  lights  flush  and  tarry. 

He  raised  his  head  from  the  scented  hay  — 

He  drew  his  lips  from  the  yellow  grain, 
For  down  the  cool  of  the  ending  day 

He  heard  his  laughter  again. 

Nay,  Grey  Garry,  't  was  but  a  dream  — 
The  wind  gone  daft  or  the  trees  unstrung. 

Nay,  dear  horse,  it  was  but  a  trick 

Of  the  Summer-wind,  who  is  ever  young. 

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Northland  Lyrics 

The  writer  sat  in  his  lamp-lit  room  — 

Weary  and  sad  the  writer. 

He  heard  the  wind  in  the  outer  gloom  — 

It  held  a  tang  of  the  woodland  bloom, 

As  it  did  when  the  world  was  brighter. 

He  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  scribbled  proofs; 

He  dropped  the  pen  from  his  weary  hand, 
For  somewhere  he  heard  the  clatter  of  hoofs  — 

Galloping  hoofs  through  a  Summer  land. 

Nay,  good  writer,  't  was  but  a  dream  — 

The  wind  gone  daft  or  thy  nerves  unstrung. 

Nay,  dear  boy,  it  was  but  a  trick 

Of  the  Summer-wind,  who  is  ever  young. 

SMOKE-WREATHS 

These  fading  smoke-wreaths  hold  them  all  — 
The  dawns  and  dreams  gone  by, 

The  lights  and  shadows  on  the  wall, 
The  gleams  of  open  sky, 

And  all  the  vague,  elusive  things 
That  haunt  the  halls  of  life 

With  sense  of  vast  o'ershadowing  wings 
And  rumourings  of  strife. 

How  this  small  bowl  of  ruddy  fire 
Can  people  all  the  room 
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Northland  Lyrics 

With  strangers  from  the  realm  Desire, 
Beyond  the  gulfs  of  Doom, 

Till  all  about  me  in  the  dusk 

The  silence  is  astir 
With  gleam  of  steel  and  breath  of  musk 

And  frankincense  and  myrrh, 

While  dream,  adown  the  shifting  breath 
Of  myth  and  love  and  war, 

Lures  from  the  hollow  vault  of  death 
Wild  hearts  that  beat  no  more  j 

And  Roland's  bugle,  through  the  night 
Sends  forth  its  far  weird  fall 

Where  weltering  and  dense  the  fight 
Goes  over  Roncevalles. 

Joan  of  Arc,  and  Heloise, 

Swan  Helen,  fatal  star, 
And  Dante's  deep-eyed  Beatrice 

Go  through  the  dusk  afar ; 

King  Arthur  of  the  weary  quest, 

Excalibur  in  hand, 
Flashes,  where  'er  is  sorest  prest 

His  lion-hearted  band ; 


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Northland  Lyrics 

The  joy  of  battle  fierce  and  strong 
Drifts  through  the  deathly  bars 

While  clash  and  swing  of  sword  and  song 
Clang  up  among  the  stars, 

And  strange  wild  sagas  of  the  North 
Pulse  fire  through  all  my  veins 

As  where  across  the  sky  go  forth 

The  Weird  Light's  shaken  skeins ; 

Then  slowly,  as  my  pipe  burns  low 
Enchantments  pale  and  fade, 

Till,  in  the  ash  of  long  ago 

The  last  dear  ghost  is  laid. 


THE  DEEPS 

In  mind's  subconscious  waters  black  and  vast 
On  which  thought's  lifting  laboured  spans  are  cast 
What  blind  germs  wait  the  mystic  touch  at  last. 

There,  teeming,  blind,  below  the  coasts  of  dream, 
The  pregnant  voiceless  currents  drift  and  stream, 
With  doom  and  dread  and  rapture  in  their  gleam. 

With  here, — to  bloom  when  I  shall  touch  your  hand, — 
Through  bourneless  darkness  drifting  for  no  strand, 
A  scarlet  magic  seed  from  some  far  land. 

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And  here,  survivors  from  old  worlds  undone, 
Strange  thought-germs  latent  till  a  fiercer  sun 
Shall  thrill  them  with  eternity  begun. 

Valours  and  visions,  impulse,  dream,  and  strife, 
Old  ethnic  currents  through  the  core  of  life, — 
With  these  the  gravid  sunless  deeps  are  rife. 

BEFORE  THE    GATE 

A  snow-swirl  from  the  bitter  blast  of  life, 
A  wavering  flame  before  the  winds  of  death, 
A  soul  beat  upward  toward  the  feet  of  God. 

With  blind  desire  he  battered  against  space, 
And  with  the  heartache  of  a  child  come  home 
He  shook  with  anguish  at  the  frozen  door. 

Sealed  with  the  freezings  of  oblivion 

The  looming  shadowy  gates  of  God's  abode 

In  awful  silence  stirred  not  to  his  cry. 

And  then  a  voice  woke  very  far  away 
Saying,  "  You  may  not  win  to  that  pure  light 
Wherein  the  fulness  of  all  joy  abides 

"  Till  you  have  won  its  shadow  upon  earth, 
That  white  and  strangest  of  all  mysteries, 
The  perfect  wonder  of  a  woman's  love." 
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The  grey  and  aching  vision  of  the  gate 
Wavered  before  him.     With  unuttered  cry 
He  shivered  outward  where  the  darkness  leered. 


THE  LOUP-GAROU 

The  song  I  heard  at  the  river's  bend, 
Mellowed  across  the  foaming  "  rip," 

That  night  in  June  when  my  pulses  stirred 
To  the  dream  my  heart  let  slip, — 

This  is  all  I  remember  now 

When  the  bees  come  back  to  the  linden  bough. 

The  song  I  heard  and  the  face  I  saw 
While  through  the  dusk  I  loping  sped 

Like  some  grey  wraith  the  winds  rrftght  draw 
Across  the  sunset's  red ; — 

This  is  all  I  remember  now 

When  June  has  sweetened  the  linden  bough. 

I  heard  her  scream  as  I  passed  the  door, — 
The  low  log  doorway  where  she  stood;  — 

It  blended  and  passed  with  the  rapid's  roar 
As  I  plunged  through  the  hollow  wood ; 

And  my  heart  grows  wild  with  the  memory  now 

When  the  bees  are  back  on  the  linden  bough. 

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Northland  Lyrics 

Fierce  gods  who  made  me  half  man,  half  brute, 
Why  add  this  bitter  last  touch  to  my  pain  ? 

Am  I  less  than  the  reddening  willow-shoot 
You  soothe  in  the  white  spring-rain  ? 

Yet  me  you  torture  to  madness  now 

With  the  bloom  and  the  bees  on  the  linden  bough. 

KATHALEENA 

Kathaleena  !  Kathaleena  ! 
Through  the  green,  bird-haunted  valley, 
Through  the  brook-bright,  windy  meadow, 
Through  the  dim  mysterious  forest, 

All  the  birds  are  calling  thee ; 
All  the  brooks  their  voices  rally, 

Shout  thy  name  through  sun  and  shadow, 
Cry,  "  Bring  back  the  light  thou  borest 
From  our  fields,  Astore  Machree  "  ! 
Kathaleena !   Kathaleena  ! 

Kathaleena !  Kathaleena  ! 
In  the  land  where  now  thou  strayest 
Have  the  sombre  hills  grown  brighter, 
Have  the  birds  a  richer  singing, 

Since  thy  lovely  soul  is  there  ? 
Surely,  surely  skies  the  greyest, 

Hearts  the  saddest,  must  grow  lighter, 
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Where  thy  tender  voice  is,  bringing 

Blessed  dreams  and  visions  fair. 

Kathaleena  !  Kathaleena  ! 

Kathaleena  !  Kathaleena  ! 
Ah  return  to  those  who  call  thee, 
Come  once  more  to  us  who  wander 
Through  the  ways  thou  leavest  lonely, 

Vales  that  wait  for  love  and  thee : 
Let  no  stranger-lands  enthrall  thee, 
Dream  no  foreign  hearts  are  fonder 
Than  the  heart  that  longs  for  only 

Thy  low  voice.     Ah  come,  Machree  ! 
Kathaleena !  Kathaleena  ! 


ROSEMARIE 

Rosemarie  plays  in  the  firelight's  blaze, 
Her  shadow  is  dark  on  the  wall, 

Her  eyes  are  dim  with  a  dream  of  him ; 
(Ah  how  the  storm-winds  call.) 

He  will  come  to-night  in  the  storm's  despite,- 

(Dark  is  the  woodland  way), — 
She  hears  the  beat  of  his  horses'  feet, 

In  her  heart  there  is  holiday. 

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Northland  Lyrics 

More  rich,  more  clear,  as  the  hour  draws  near, 

The  clangorous  keys  rejoice ; 
In  her  jubilant  heart  such  thoughts  upstart, 

And  music  finds  them  a  voice. 

Of  those  eyes  she  dreams  where  the  love-light  gleams 

Warm  as  the  heart  of  June, 
On  her  lips  the  while  the  slow  sweet  smile 

Grows  glad  with  the  golden  tune. 

What  the  white  storm  hides  in  its  drifting  tides 

Will  the  eyes  of  dawn  betray  ? 
The  cold  wind  calls  from  the  mountain  walls, 

Dark  is  the  woodland  way. 

Ah  sweet,  dream  on  till  the  night  is  gone 

And  the  tender  hope  is  dead  ; 
In  those  dearest  eyes  the  death-chill  lies, 

There  is  snow  on  that  shining  head. 

HIS  WHIM 

Because  his  dream  was  fair, 

His  life  not  so, 
He  turned  from  his  despair, 

To  go. 

Because  his  light  was  dim, 
The  night  so  wide, 
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Northland  Lyrics 

He  yielded  to  his  whim 
And  died. 

But  when  his  heart  had  rest 

Beneath  the  sod 
There  came  to  him  this  test 

From  God : 

The  one  he  loved  in  vain 
To  where  he  slept 

Came  through  the  Autumn  rain, 
And  wept. 

Then  all  his  fancied  peace 
Returned  to  strife ; 

He  groaned  for  his  release 
To  life. 

AFTER 

Though  Death  has  claimed  my  dust 

For  the  earth's  need, 
Lent  me  a  while  on  trust 

By  flower  and  seed  ; 

Though  Failure  clutched  me  in 

His  iron  hand 
With  that  old  look  and  grin 

I  understand ; 
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They  neither  can  annul 

Nor  make  accurst 
The  light  that  through  my  skull 

Sifts  still,  as  first 

It  did,  when  in  my  eyes 

(Which  now  are  none) 

It  woke  some  dear  surmise 
Of  joy  begun, 

And  those  black  frosts  that  stir 

In  the  deep  wood 
Told  me  without  demur 

That  life  was  good. 


TO  THE  LORD  OF  THE  YEARS 

This  rolling  sea  of  stars 
Is  dust  before  Thy  breath 

Whose  pleasure  makes  or  mars 
The  halls  of  life  and  death. 

Thy  least  desire  is  heard 
Beyond  the  vasts  of  space, 

And  being's  core  is  stirred 
At  turning  of  Thy  face. 


Northland  Lyrics 

The  cycles  of  earth's  years 
Are  phases  in  Thy  dream 

Unblurred  by  drift  of  tears, 

Untouched  of  shade  and  gleam. 

Yet  of  Thy  will  we  are, 
And  children  of  Thy  word 

With  every  sun  and  star, 
With  every  flower  and  bird. 

Then  grant  we  may  not  fail 
From  out  Thy  vision  vast 

When  life's  strong  warders  quail 
Before  death's  icy  blast   : 

But  may  we  still  aspire 

To  things  unknown,  unguessed, 
More  near  the  heart's  desire 

Than  this  poor  body's  quest. 

TOASTS 

Gentlemen  !   comrades  and  friends, 
We  '11  forget  our  short  purses,  long  woes- 
We  '11  all  fill  with  port  to  the  brim, 
For  I  have  some  toasts  to  propose. 

The  ladies  —  old  sweethearts  and  new  — 
The  girls  whom  we  once  loved,  and  now : 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Marie  of  the  glowing  gold  hair 
And  Lalage  of  the  white  brow  ; 

Celeste,  who  was  married  last  week, 
Blithe  Nell,  whom  I  'd  marry  to-day 
If  she  would  write  "  Yes"  to  my  prayer 
And  the  papers  would  give  me  more  pay; 

The  shopping-mad  girls  of  New  York  — 
The  ladies  of  old  Acadie  — 
The  girls  who  are  dearest  to  you 
And  the  girl  who  is  dearest  to  me. 

Next !  The  ladies  whose  love  is  true  love  — 
Not  a  bubble,  to  break  at  a  whim  — 
Our  Mothers  !  God  bless  them  !  and  here  's 
Their  health,  to  the  stem  from  the  brim. 

Next !  The  pens  that  we  shake  at  the  world 
And  butter  our  bread  with  —  buy  wine  — 
Your  pen,  and  your  pen,  and  your  pen, 
And  your  pen,  and  Will's  pen,  and  mine. 

They  have  stuck  to  us  through  '97, 
And  brought  no  more  joy  than  gold-plate : 
If  we  work  for  the  things  that  we  dream  of 
They  will  stick  to  us  through  '98. 

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And  last !  with  a  clinking  of  glasses 
Here  's  each  to  the  hearts  of  the  others, 
And  we  swear,  by  the  pen  and  the  ink-pot, 
To  scribble,  stay  poor,  and  be  brothers. 


BEFORE  THE  DUEL 

[London.   if50-~\ 

To-night  I  am  alone  in  my  own  chair 

Before  the  fire  that  good  Janette  has  lit  — 

To-morrow,  ere  the  sun  is  in  the  east, 
I,  who  love  life,  will  be  all  done  with  it. 

And  so  the  thoughts  that  I  have  long  held  down, 
Of  homely  Devon  and  the  mother-face, 

Come  surging  back  across  my  stricken  soul, 
And  all  these  years  of  ink  and  town  erase. 

I  know  how  tears  will  fill  the  mother-eyes, 
How  agony  will  chill  her  heart's  soft  beat, 

When  John  takes  up  the  news  in  Monday's  mail 
Of  death,  behind  Paul  Rober's,  in  Grub  Street. 

O  God,  is  this  reward  for  all  her  love  ? 

That  I  should  cause  her  grief,  because  a  girl 
Who  has  no  heart,  nor  soul,  nor  any  good, 

Has  set  me  at  Lord  Clare  with  her  lip's  curl  ? 

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Northland  Lyrics 

I,  who  love  life,  and  have  my  work  to  do, 
And  joy  to  take,  and  little  gift  of  rhyme, 

Will  leave  it  all  for  honour,  at  one  thrust, 
Before  St.  Paul's  can  see  the  dear  sun  climb. 

O  honour,  let  me  curse  the  shape  you  take  — 
And  love  !   I  see  a  lady  smile  next  week; 

What  matters  it  to  her  if  he  is  dead 

Who  but  this  morning  kissed  her  glowing  cheek  ? 

So  here  am  I  in  my  familiar  chair, 

And,  else  Clare  slip,  I  sit  for  my  last  time. 

Good-night,  thou  dear,  far  Devon — mother-face — • 
Good-night,  poor  laughter,  finery,  and  rhyme. 

THE  NOVICE 

O  soul  above  my  soul, 

Who  art  myself  and  more  — 

The  dream  God  gives  to  guide 
From  door  to  door, — 

By  thy  averted  brow 

And  wistful,  grieved  disdain 

Teach  thou  this  crying  heart 
To  conquer  pain. 

When  hungry  passions  wake 
Wild  tears  within  my  breast 
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Northland  Lyrics 

The  lifting  of  thine  eyes 
Stills  them  to  rest. 

My  eager  hands  would  grasp 
Desires  fond  and  vain  ; 

On  the  far  hills  a  voice 
Wakes  to  restrain. 

O  thou  unnamed,  austere, 
Make  strong  thy  tyranny, 

That  I  may  never  more 
Long  to  be  free ; 

Else  let  my  spirit  go, 

Unconscious  of  a  choice, 

Blown  on  by  shifting  winds, 
Deaf  to  thy  voice, 

Until  my  life  goes  by 

In  joys  more  sharp  than  pain, 
A  core  of  wild  sweet  fire 

And  April  rain. 


AT  THE  HEART'S  CRY 

Till  the  black-crimson  petals  of  that  night 
Drew  down  to  the  gold  vortex  of  strange  dreams 
My  soul  and  body,  wearied  of  the  fight 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Of  far  ideals  and  clashing  fierce  desires, 

I  was  as  one  struck  blind  by  life's  sweet  light 

And  deafened  by  a  myriad  singing  fires. 

So  was  I  glad  when  night's  deep  velvet  rose 
Closed  over  me  and  hid  me  from  myself; 
As  on  my  northern  hills  the  first  soft  snows 
From  grey  skies  brooding  like  an  angel's  wing, 
Compassionate,  where  the  last  lorn  maple  glows, 
Blot  out  all  sad  remembrances  of  Spring. 

JEons  it  seemed  the  changing  dreams  went  by 
Sphinx-like,  or  smiling-eyed,  or  dim  with  tears, 
While  ages  died  along  sleep's  shaken  sky 
Where  flashing  lights  of  far-off  battles  streamed 
And  wind-swept  clamors  beat  their  way  on  high 
Then  fell  on  silence  —  and  I  knew  I  dreamed. 

And  then,  across  black  solemn  pools  of  fate, 
Was  it  some  cry  of  your  wild  heart  to  mine 
That  fading  left  the  whole  world  desolate 
And  me  sob-shaken  with  a  vain  desire, 
As  one  who  beats  against  a  granite  gate 
On  marshlands  lonely  in  the  sunset's  fire  ? 


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Northland  Lyrics 

ALIEN 

Whom  the  great  goddess  once  has  kissed 

Between  the  brows 
His  heart  shall  find  no  dwelling-place 

Wherein  to  house. 

The  ragged  mists  shall  be  his  roof 

Where  mountains  loom, 
And  swirling  winds  about  his  face 

With  words  of  doom  ; 

The  valleys  when  he  walks  therein 

Are  kind  and  warm, 
Yet  ever  drift  across  his  soul 

Strange  gusts  of  storm. 

If  weary,  he  shall  stop  beside 

An  opened  door, 
Dreaming,  "This  hearthstone  is  my  goal, 

To  wend  no  more." 

A  tumult  as  of  snows  adrift 

Shall  fill  his  ears, 
His  heart-strings  feel  the  old-time  lure 

Adown  the  years, 


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Northland  Lyrics 

And  he  shall  turn  from  that  warm  light 

With  still  regret 
That  dreams  were  made  not  to  endure, — 

Nor  to  forget. 


AT  TWILIGHT 

Out  of  the  dusk,  wind-blown  and  thin, 
The  shadowy  woodboats  gather  in, 
And  twilight  hushes  the  harbor's  din, — 
Sleep,  little  head,  on  my  shoulder. 

The  gold  lights  wake  through  the  evening  grey 
In  the  little  village  beside  the  bay, 
And  a  few  cold  stars  gleam  far  away, — 
Sleep,  little  head,  on  my  shoulder. 

The  sailor  turns  his  face  once  more 
Where  his  sweetheart  waits  at  the  opened  door. 
The  lone  light  washes  the  wave-swept  shore, — 
Sleep,  little  head,  on  my  shoulder. 

Here  where  the  dancing  shadows  swarm 
Our  driftwood  fire  is  bright  and  warm ; 
Beyond  our  window  wakes  the  storm. 

Then  sleep,  little  head,  on  my  shoulder. 


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SLUMBER-SONG 

Hushed,  hushed  the  night  comes, 

Day's  cares  are  ended, 
Put  by  your  heavy  thoughts, 

Rest,  dusk-befriended ; 
Softly  my  voice  shall  weave 

White  webs  of  sleep, 
Soothing  you,  folding  you, 

Peaceful  and  deep ; 
Doubt  shall  fade,  pain  shall  flee 

Discord,  and  fear, — 
Just  your  love  murmuring 

Low  at  your  ear ; 
Respite  and  comforting 

Soul-deep,  profound, 
Come  while  I  build  your  sweet 

Palace  of  sound ; 
Gold  through  your  drowsy  brain 

Star-visions  gleam, 
While  my  song  makes  for  you 

Dim  walls  of  dream ; 
Hushed,  hushed  the  night  comes, 

Heart-pangs  are  ended, 
Peace  shall  encompass  you, 

Slumber-befriended ; 

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Northland  Lyrics 

Fear  not,  for  love  is  near 

Ne'er  to  depart, 
O  thou  long-tried  and  true, 

Heart  of  my  heart  ! 


BERCEUSE 

All  pain,  all  sorrow,  seem  to  fall 

Behind  us  infinitely  far, 
What  time  the  sleepy  robins  call 

At  Twilight's  dusky  bar. 

Lay  down  your  head  upon  my  breast, 

O  rosy  nephew  golden-curled  ; 
Boys,  birds,  and  flowers  hush  to  rest, 

So  weary  grows  the  world. 

As  slowly  as  the  branches  wave, 

Singing,  I  rock  you  to  and  fro ; 
So  tune  be  glad,  if  words  are  grave 

The  baby  will  not  know. 

Far  ofF  and  faint  the  chirpings  sound, 

Pale  lights  gleam  out  through  dark'ning  blue, 

Soft  arms  of  silence  fold  us  round. 
As  mine  are  folding  you. 


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Northland  Lyrics 

Small  voice  that  twitters  like  the  birds, 
Grey  eyes  that  hold  the  light  of  stars, 

Too  sleepy  we  for  tune  or  words; 
Let  down  the  dreamland  bars  ! 


THE  GARDEN 

A  fairy  lamb  as  white  as  snow 
Through  all  your  dreams  shall  come  and  go, 
And  you  shall  follow  where  he  leads, 
Through  dusk-deep  woods  and  blossomy  meads, 
To  where  a  little  garden  stands 
Laid  out  for  you  by  fairy  hands, 
Set  round  with  red-coned  tamarack, — 
Four  walls  to  keep  the  great  world  back, — 
With  lovely  avenues,  whose  shade 
From  eglantine  and  spruce  is  made, 
With  oread  ferns  in  shady  spots, 
And  shoals  of  blue  forget-me-nots, 
With  rows  of  crimson  hollyhocks, 
And  columbine,  and  spicy  stocks, 
And  other,  fairer  blossoms  known 
To  folk  of  childlike  heart  alone, — • 
The  yellow  lily  whose  romance 
Grew  not  on  any  field  of  France, 
One  white,  ethereal  immortelle 
From  those  lost  woods  we  loved  so  well, 
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Northland  Lyrics 

And  that  Blue  Rose  whose  petals  gleam 
So  richly  by  the  paths  of  dream  ! 

O  Baby,  let  your  wee  hands  keep 

Some  flowers  when  you  come  back  from  sleep. 


THE  MEN  OF  MY  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Where  are  the  men  of  my  heart's  desire  ? 

Of  the  British  blood  and  the  loyal  names  ? 
Some  are  North,  at  the  home  hearth-fire, 

Where  the  hemlock  glooms  and  the  maple  flames, 
And  some  are  tramping  the  old  world  round 
For  the  pot  of  gold  they  have  never  found. 

Oh,  leal  are  the  men  of  my  heart's  desire  — 
Their  fathers  were  leal  in  the  days  gone  by  — 

And  their  blood  is  blithe  with  the  subtle  fire 
The  purple  breeds,  and  their  hearts  are  high, — 

Poor,  and  gallant,  and  dear  to  me, 

With  a  strong  hand  each,  and  a  pedigree. 

Good  men  are  bred  in  the  East  and  the  West, 
And  ripe,  true  gentles  in  Boston  town, 

But  the  men  of  my  blood  to  my  blood  seem  best  — 
Who  still  hold  the  honour  of  Mitre  and  Crown. 

Though  empty  their  cellars  and  worn  their  attire, 

These  are  the  men  of  my  heart's  desire. 
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Northland  Lyrics 

So,  Gentles,  these  stumbling  rhymes  I  send 

To  our  spruce-clad  hills,  for  a  word  of  cheer, — 

Where  there  's  ever  a  welcome  and  ever  a  friend, 
And  the  brown  coat  covers  the  cavalier. 

Take  them,  I  pray  you,  for  what  they  are  worth, 

For  I  swear  by  my  soul  you  're  the  salt  of  the  earth. 


A  LAMENT 

TO  THE   MEMORY  OF  ARCHIBALD  LAMPMAN 

His  was  not  the  glory  of  the  shattering  of  spears ; 
He    did  not  cross  his  sword  with  Death,  where 

scarlet  flags  are  hurled, 
But  Death  came  to  him  softly,  with  his  dark  eyes 

dim  with  tears, 

And    broke  a  dream  of  woodland-ways  across  a 
singing  world. 

So  doff  your  hats,  good  poet-men, 
No  ringers  lift  the  fallen  pen  ! 
The  sun  forgets  to  mark  the  time 
Without  the  music  of  his  rhyme. 

His  was  not  the  glory  of  the  thundering  of  wars ; 
His  was  not  a  nation's  voice  !  —  are  his  a  nation's 
tears  ? 

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Northland  Lyrics 

To  him  the  night-winds  whispered  all  the  secrets  of 

the  stars, 

He  was  priest  of  all   the  joyous  springs  and  of  the 
dying  years. 

So  doff  your  hats,  good  gentlemen, 
For  hearts  were  made  to  bleed  again. 
With  Archie  gone,  and  all  his  rhyme, 
Who  '11  tell  the  world  't  is  April-time  ? 


DARGAI  RIDGE 

Thank  God  I  have  in  my  laggard  blood 

The  vim  of  the  Englishman, 

Which  is  second  to  none,  from  North  to  South, 

Save  the  fire  of  the  Scottish  clan  — 

Save  the  blood  of  the  lads  who  died 

On  the  rocky  mountain-side, 

And  went  to  the  hell  of  the  heated  guns 

As  a  lover  goes  to  his  bride. 

The  Ghoorkas  laughed  at  the  whining  balls  — 

And  they  were  of  alien  race. 

The  English  drave  at  the  smoking  rocks 

And  their  subalterns  set  the  pace. 

Oh  the  blood  of  the  lads  who  fell 

Where  the  valley  lay  a  hell ; 


Northland  Lyrics 

Thank  God  that  the  men  in  the  East  and  West 
Cheer  at  the  tale  they  tell. 

The  Ghoorkas  lay  in  the  slaughter  place, 
Save  a  few  that  had  battled  through  — 

O 

Their  brown,  brave  faces  raised  to  the  steep 

Where  the  flags  of  the  marksmen  flew  — 

Their  great  souls  cheering  still 

(Souls  that  no  ball  could  kill) 

Into  the  ears  of  the  few,  who  crouched 

Under  the  crooked  hill. 

The  English  went  as  maids  to  a  dance 
Or  hounds  to  the  huntsman's  call, 
And  the  English  lay  in  the  valley-lap 
And  smeared  their  blood  on  the  wall. 
Oh  the  blood  that  knows  no  shame, 
And  the  valour  clear  of  blame  — 
Thank  God  that  the  world  is  girt  about 
With  the  gold  of  an  English  name. 

Then  the  men  of  the  Gordon  Highlanders 
With  their  bagpipes  shrilling  free  — 
The  lads  of  the  heather  pasture-sides, 
The  lads  of  the  unclad  knee, 
Charged  —  where  their  friends  lay  dead  — 
Over  the  green  and  the  red 
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Northland  Lyrics 

To  the  cry  of  the  regimental  pipes 
And  the  flop  of  the  hitting  lead. 

They  passed  the  level  of  sprawling  shapes 

And  the  valley  of  reeking  death ; 

They  struck  the  rocks  of  the  mountain  pass 

Where  the  smoke  blew  up  like  breath. 

Little  they  thought  of  fame 

Or  the  lifting  of  a  name  ; 

They  only  thought  of  the  mountain  crest 

And  the  circle  of  spitting  flame. 

Thank  God  I  find  in  my  laggard  blood, 

Deep  down,  the  fire  of  the  man, 

And  the  heart  that  shakes  with  a  mad  delight 

At  the  name  of  a  Highland  clan  — 

At  the  name  of  the  lads  who  died 

On  the  rocky  mountain-side 

And  went  to  the  hell  of  the  heated  guns 

As  a  lover  goes  to  his  bride. 

THE  BUGLE-CALL. 

The  night  loomed  black  with  coming  storm, 
The  narrow  pass  was  iron-walled, 

And  through  the  dark  profound  and  grim 
A  solitary  bugle  called. 
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Northland  Lyrics 

Its  voice  from  cloudy  heights  unseen 

With  sudden  summoning  sweetness  spoke, 

And  in  the  heavy  heart  of  time 
Eternity's  desire  awoke. 

Blow  loud  and  clear  from  height  to  height, 

O  bugle,  bid  the  dark  be  gone ; 
Call  out  across  the  stormy  hills 

The  gold  and  azure  wings  of  dawn  ! 


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AT  THE  END  OF  A  BOOK 

When  that  old  Vendor,  to  whose  hand 
The  loveliest  volumes  come  at  last, 
Shall  thumb  you  for  a  trace  of  good 
Enduring  though  your  day  be  past, 

Be  not  abashed  at  your  small  worth  ; 
His  sense  is  keen ;  and  there  may  cling 
About  your  yellowing  pages  still 
Some  freshness  of  the  Northern  Spring ; 

Some  echo  of  the  whitethroat's  song 
From  lonely  valleys  blue  with  rain, 
Ringing  across  the  April  dusk 
Joy  and  unfathomable  pain  ; 

Some  glamor  of  the  darling  land 

Of  purple  hill  and  scarlet  tree, 

Of  tidal  rivers  and  tall  ships 

And  green  diked  orchards  by  the  sea  ; 

A  sweep  of  elm-treed  interval 
And  gravelly  floors  where  herons  wade ; 
A  sigh  of  wind  through  old  gray  barns 
With  eeriest  music  ever  made. 

And  will  no  hint  of  this  outweigh 
The  faulty  aim,  the  faultier  skill, 
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To  save  our  credit  when  we  come 
To  the  Green  Dwelling  in  the  Hill  ? 

Ah,  trust  the  Vendor  wise  and  kind  ! 
He  knows  the  outside  and  the  in, 
And  loves  the  very  least  of  those 
He  tosses  in  the  dusty  bin. 

BLISS  CARMAN. 


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